Blood Sport
by LarcSakurai
Summary: P3, Shinji/Aki, Junpei/Minato. In a world like ours, winner takes all.
1. Chapter 1

Fandom:: Persona 3

Pair: AkiMitsu, implied Shijihiko and Junato

Summary:: Winner takes all

It was more than boxing.

There was no ring. No ropes, no refs, no rowdy high school crowds. The lights were dim, the tensions high, and the punches stung a thousand times worse. There was no clear depiction of where the boundaries lay. Just a hard slab of cement beneath bare, bloodied feet to fall back on. An adrenaline high like none other. The prize was more than cheap metal trophies. It was thrill, it was danger, it was the hot scanky women winking and batting lashes along the sidelines. This was not the sophisticated regimes of gentlemen. This was the wild war waged by cold bastards with a taste for human blood. Finesse was nonexistant in their world. A man put up his dukes agianst another man and the best man won, whether their opponent was breathing or not was frivolous.

He was known simply as the Emporer. Undefeated champion of the underground bloodsporting rings. Once proud captain of the boxing team at Gekkoukan High School it was undisclosed what caused the man to turn his tastes towards raw violence. No one gave a damn why a man fought. Only that they did and did so with no remorse for the weak. He used to protect the weak, didn't he? In days when he stood by his empress with a good, clean name. He'd never believed in this pointless brawling before but it didn't stop him now. No one cared. As long as he kept laying out his opponents in various states of mangled gore there was to be no protest.

They couldn't touch him. Dancing across the floor ignoring the blisters bursting on soles of his feet. Sharp and deadly, the touch of a viper. Slowly wittle them down, play the opponent like a harp until the song became boring. Then move in for the kill with a quick strike. He stumbled back. Don't show weakness. Leap forward and dig into the gut. make him lurch and buckle. Crying for mercy? He wasn'g about to get any. A shot to the jaw, crack of broken teeth. One more hard deck to the nose and he collapsed. Blood leaked out onto the stone yet no attention was called. They were too busy cheering on their Emporer. Holding bloody, broken fingers high above the crowd.

Akihiko could show no pain as he moved off the ring and slipped blodoy toes into shoes. It hurt so damn bad to stand but he was the Emporer. He knew more of pain than any man in this world. Nothing came of letting pain slow him down. He'd never be where he was if he allowed.

Where exactly was he now?

The night air curdled under the influence of the gathered potheads. They flashed him rotted smiles, knowing the outcome of tonight's match. There was no questions when the Emporer emerged. He checked his reflection in a windshield. Damn he looked like shit. That bastard tore his lip good but that was nothing compared to what marks he'd left behind. Checking the watch from his pocket the digital face read 10:45. Junpei wouldn't be around for another fifteen minutes or so. Sitting down on the sidewalk the boxer pulled out a cigarette and surrended himself to the numbing nicotine.

How long had it been now? Six, seven months? Since the Fall had come and his empress had been taken away from him. The only thing he had left of his old life, the only lover he had left, was gone. Shinjiro. Mitsuru. Who was he without them? The day they graduated Minato had left them with a weak smile on his face as life slipped through his fingers right before their eyes. Then a Kirijo marked limousine had pulled up outside the school and they stole Mitsuru away, sending her off to god-knows-where to get married to god-knows-who. After that they all fell apart.

The old SEES bandage he'd once proudly worn flapped in the breeze, tied around his ankle. It was tattered and worn but he refued to relinquish the last sliver of purpose he had. Akihiko had lost everything else, everyone who ever made him complete and whole. All he had left was Caesar and the memories of fighting alongside his persona to comfort him. He questioned why he continued to live. For a sliver of chance that he may once agian glimpse Mitsuru's face? Nothing more than a poor sap's daydream.

Steady rumbling broke the silence turning heads of stoners to watch as the Emporer picked himself up off the curb into the front seat of an old red truck. Junpei turned down the radio, yawning. It had been one hell of a long night but he promised Akihiko a taxi every night he had a match. He came by on the way back home to the Boulevard so the least he could do was give his old comrade a lift. Akihiko appreciated it. Most nights he was in absolutely no shape to drive though it wasn't often Junpei was either.

"So, how did it go tonight?" Junpei asked.

Akihiko shrugged. "Same as always."

"Kick some ass?"

"Yeah.."

"That's the Akihiko I know and love." Junpei clapped him on the back. "You showing those punks whatfor, right?"

Akihiko averted his gaze, staring out down the dark road. It was too calm anymore. Without the Dark Hour looming around them the streets were too clean. Pale moonshine hailed as the most exquisite of beautifes in the eyes of poets failed to fascinate him. They had never seen it in jade. That was their time. An hour only they could live in. It was a little slice of time all their own and now it was gone. There was no debating it had to be done away with but he never thought he could be so empty without it.

"Junpei?"

"Hmm?" he turned down the radio.

"What.. do you live for?"

That took the boy off guard. What -did- he live for? He had no girlfriend, lived in a Shirawkawa Boulevard love hotel, and worked a dead end job as a mechanic. He lived day in and day out with the regret of never requitting Minato's obvious affections for him. He'd never even heard the boy out. He avoided his friend's confessions like the plague. Now he was gone. It was not as if he had died normally, he died a s a martyr for the world. For his friends. For Junpei. Minato had sacrificed himself so the one he loved could live on. Even if the boy knew he would never be loved in return.

"...I really don't know." He'd never thought about it. It was easier to not think about things like that when he slaved over broen down automobiles all day and then fucked himself dry on whatever whore passed by the corner that night. The questions to all the ugly answers couldn't barrage him when he was asleep. "Why do you live?"

"...For Mitsuru. She would kick my ass if I just gave up."

"Then I guess I could say I live for Minato."

Akihiko climbed out of the turck when they arrived at his place. It was an old apartment complex reeking of marijuana and chipping lead paint but it was shelter from the elements. He leaned on the window and looked into the dark eyes of his old partner. Junpei looked so much older than he was. Without Minato he lost all motivation to finish out school and had dropped out at the end of his junior year. Akihiko had no room to preach. He'd gone from being the Golden Boy of Gekkoukan to Emporer of the Blood Sport. It wasn't pride he took in fighting anymore. It was just a means of escape.

"I'll see you around, Junpei. Thanks alot."

"No problem man. You take care of yourself."

"You too." Akihiko stepped back and watched the bright red taillights fade from view before going inside. He stripped down into sweatpants and bandaged up the bloodied knuckles before swiping a beer from the fridge and watching the moon out his bedroom window. The same moon Mitsuru watched. The same moon Junpei watched. The same moon that, somewhere out there, Shinjiro and Minato watched. The same moon. The same sky. In retrospect their world was fairly small when viewed in the grand scheme of things.

Yet if they were truly so close in this world... why the hell did he feel so alone?

Music:

Dir en Grey- The Fatal Believer

Motley Crue- Livewire

Oleander- Runaway Train


	2. Chapter 2

He slammed a hand down on the buzzer to silence the wailing alarm. Pain throbbed through every waking muscle in his body, the slightest shift sneidng another nauseating wave through him. He wouldn't be in any condition to fight for a few days. Half-heartedly he shoved the comfort aside and dragged himself into the moldy bathroom coaxing himself to look into the eyes of the ghost haunting his empty shell. Fresh shades of blue and purple painted across his eye and an ugly scar ahd formed over the torn lip. He reached for peroxide in the medicine cabinet, hissing against the harsh reminder of his undoubtedly broken fingers. So much for that.

Sunlight filtered in through the dim window guiding the boxer into the living room. A battered sofa rested against the far wall neighboring a table that at one time may have been oak but now resembled something out of a horror novel. A few heads had met with the edge of the splintered wood. Faint buzzing filled the room from the ancient television and he gave it a swift smack to silence it. Prize money had been set away to invest in buffing up the new apartment but Akihiko was rarely in any shape to support his own body weight let alone go out in public around normal people.

Since when wasn't he "normal" anymore?

Well, he supposed there was one thing he could do. Pushing the button one the flashing phone reciever he listened to the mechanic voice inform him of his all-too-neglected voice mail messages. Maybe Junpei would be up for an afternoon out on the town with some of his midnight lady companions. How long had it been since he'd had a good lay? Akihiko couldn't remember.

_"Umm.. hey Akihiko-san.."_ Fuuka. "_I.. was just wondering if you'd like to stop by the shop today. If you're busy or not feeling up to it I understand. Have you heard from Junpei-kun lately? I hope you're doing well... If.. If you get the chance, please give me a call. I'm worried about you both. Alright... bye now."_

Looks like he had an agenda. He went to the kitchen and wrapped up an ice cube from the fidge in some gauze, shoving the thick wad in his mouth. He winced as it pressed up against a swollen cheek. Painful, but effective. He didn't want Fuuka to see the full extent of the injuries he sought night after night. She had enough to worry about.

Switching on the old radio in his bedroom the Emporer began his search for clothing while the droning voices of daytime talk show hosts chattered on about the latest gossip. Stories of mysterious murders in a neighboring country town. Akihiko snorted, pulling on a tight red shirt and some loose slacks. People died every day, sometimes by his hand. Between the Dark Hour and the bloody games he conquered whatever shreds of morality the youth once had were lost to pleasant daydreams. He checked himself out in the full length mirror. He had a body to die for despite the mangled state of his face and the deep violet bruises on his right hand. If he kept the bandages tight enough maybe she wouldn't notice.

He sighed, grabbing keys and heading out into the afternoon sun. It was going to be a long day.

After the late passing of the owners of Bookworms Used Books, a new store had opened up in Iwatodai. Yamagishi Antiquities was owned by the father of heir-to-the-business Fuuka Yamagishi, the family so deeply rooted in Port Island that they were determined to go down as part of its history. The older gentleman was returning home for the evening and was none too pleased to see when the old teal sedan of Fuuka's former classmate pulled up out front of the shop. The man was nothing but trouble. All the scars and wound he sported were too frequent to be random muggings.

"Good evening Mr. Yamagishi... is Fuuka on shift?" Sanada gave a polite bow.

Yamagishi's lips pursed into a frown. "She is, yes. Don't bring your troubles into my store, boy. You might have once been Gekkoukan High's golden boy but now you're just a mangy punk like all the rest of those lowlife scum." The elder man advanced, his voice venomous. "And I swear to God boy if you harm my daughter or try to bring her down with you I'll make you wish you were never born."

"I understand." came the bored reply.

Akihiko brushed off the mumblings and slid the rattling door aside with loud 'thunk.' Fuuka leapt to attention from behind a rack whirling around to face her former companion. Her expression changed to one of motherly horror, grabbing her senior by the hand and dragging him into a nearby chair. She flew to a cabinet and bustled through the shelves for supplies.

"Look at you Sanada-san! You look terrible!"

Akihiko shrugged, trying to hide the bandaged knuckles. "It's nothing, Fuuka. Don't worry yourself."

"It's not 'nothing' for God's sake!" She pulled his wrist up, tenderly laying the injured limp in her lap. "Someone needs to care for you and Junpei-kun, I know you won't care for yourselves."

Silence hung a heavy spell over the store. Neither of them said anything, Akihiko watchign as the soft, dainty fingers carefully peeled back the ace bandage. Thick, swollen fingers barely registered the coolness of the ice she pressed to them, instruments rattling in the bottom of an old medical kit. She was well practiced in bandaging them up after battle. There was much work to be done after consecutives visits to Tartarus.

He watched the pale fingers tend his hand and set it back in his lap. She dumped peroxide to cotton balls and leaned forward to apply the stinging ointment to his forehead. He barely felt the sharp bite as the chemicals bubbled eating away the infection. It was no surprise considering where the matches were held.

"Junpei's doing well." he said, finally exhausted of the silence.

"That's good to hear." she dipepd another swab in the clear liquid. "How's his work?"

"Fine. He doesn't talk about it much."

"Mnn.." Fuuka set the swab aside, fixing up a patch to put on his swollen cheek. "Did you put ice on that?"

"Yeah."

"Put more on when you get home." She cleaned up the kit, staring off into space. "How is she?"

"She? You mean.. Mitsuru?" the name was almost physically painful to speak.

"Yes... I'm sorry, would you rather not say it?" Akihiko couldn't hide the pain in his aura from Juno and he knew it.

"I'm fine... To be totally honest with you I haven't heard a word from her since we graduated."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be." he waved the comment off. "It's nothing you could stop."

Fuuka bit her lip, nodding. Knocking one the old door drew her attention to the front of the shop. Excusing herself she hurried over to answer the mail call. Akihiko leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes close shud. The antique shop remidned him of the one Minato would always take them to. With the thought of the blue-haired boy the familiar ache of the past settled in over his broken heart. Words left unspoken. Promises unsaid. Deepest desires screaming to be requited and the terrible knowledge that one day his beautiful empress would be finally be yanked those last few inches beyond his grasp.

"A-Akihiko-san?" the small girl held in her hands a small manilla envelope, the word "Emporer" emblazed in a dark red substance that could only be human blood. He snatched the envelope from her and tore it open, face paling.

Emporer.

If you want to see your empress again, I invite you to test your legendary skills in my ring. The address is in Shirakawa and has been enclosed below. If you should feel so inclined to reply. Hope to see you there.

No.... His fist slammed into a bookshelf sending old tomes piling into a dusty heap.

Not Mitsuru...


End file.
